Page 77 of Demon

I stood up, shaking my head at Indie, who was pushing cartridges back into the sawn-off rifle. Ciara was too close. The shot would go through her too. The Northern Kings filled the doorway behind us. Indie, Fury and the twins. One in, all in.

“Let her go,” I instructed. The man stared at me, pulling the knife back up to her throat.

“Demon. I thought he’d shot you,” she breathed, her voice unsteady.

“I’m fine, darl’,” I wiped at my mouth, at the blood that oozed from the cut. Then I spoke to the man holding the knife to my old lady’s throat. “This will only end one way, fella. So now I’ll give you the choice. My fists or his gun.”

The remaining Pole turned, pulling Ciara with him, glancing at the four leather clad men in the doorway. Then he turned back to me and pushed Ciara forwards. She stumbled, her legs giving way, buckling as she sank towards the floor. Reaching out, I caught her before she hit the deck, pulling her into me, pushing her head to my chest as I nodded at Indie. From the door, he raised the rifle. But the man was quicker, pulling the knife along his throat. His eyes widened as the blade cut through his own flesh, gargling as blood flooded from the wound, and slowly he sank to his knees, his eyes never moving from mine, until his heart stilled and he fell face down beside his boss.

And just like that, bodies lay on the floor. Three dead, one unconscious. Ciara sobbed against my chest, and I clutched her against me.

“All dead?” Indie asked.

I shook my head, pointing to the stirring man with a nasty wound on the back of his head, as I made a mental note never to piss Ciara off.

“We’ll deal with it, brother. Get her home.”

I nodded, making no deal out of his choice of words, and scooped her into my arms.

*****

I sat on the bed, the early summer sun flowing through the windows. The water in the bathroom shut off, and the shower hissed dully as she pulled it back. I waited patiently, sat on the side of the bed, listening to the soft padding steps behind the closed door. And then she stepped out. Wet hair hanging down her back, a sexy, tousled damp mess. The towel hid my view of her body, of those perfect tits, the fleshy stomach and the swell of hips that would have given her an hour-glass shape if she’d eat better.

Her eyes caught mine. She was exhausted. I could see it in her face. In the way she shuffled towards me and the weak, uncertain smile.

“Thank you, Demon.”

I cocked my head, studying her, and she moved closer, nudging my legs open and standing inside them.

Her hand cupped my left cheek, her fingertips smoothing over the skin, gently touching the cut in my lip.

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

I shook my head. “Not really, darlin’. What about yours?”

“Stings a bit. Demon…tonight…you were…”

“Crazy?”

“No. Amazing.”

I smiled, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her closer. My lip stung, but I didn’t care. I’d missed this. Her body. Her gentle voice. And the thoughts filled me with sadness again.

“What is it, Demon?”

“You. I missed you. I’m sorry for what I said. The other night. I didn’t mean any of it.”

Ciara frowned.

“What happened? With you and your dad?”

“He’s not my Dad.”

“What do you mean?” Her brow furrowed further.

“He came to tell me, after all these years, that he’s not my father. That my dead uncle is actually my father.”

“I’m sorry, Demon.”